


Fuuma Hops in Kamui's Boat

by ChibisUnleashed, KamuiWithFangs



Series: Despina [1]
Category: X/1999
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamuiWithFangs/pseuds/KamuiWithFangs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Introducing Despina, a tropical paradise world-wide, enjoying modern technology, beach volleyball, and surfing for entertainment and most are satisfied with that. But the underworld has never been the same since Lelouch took control of the mafia and Goku is not afraid of sharks. </p><p>Internationally renown athlete Monou Fuuma is possibly the world's best volleyball player, and Despina's worst surfer, but he really likes Kamui and his houseboat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuuma Hops in Kamui's Boat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover fic set in an AU world we call Despina, written by a combined effort between Chibis Unleashed and KamuiWithFangs, beta’d by Fiona Rokkar. As of the writing/posting of this, the expected fandoms involved are from X/1999, Saiyuki, Final Fantasy 8, Petshop of Horrors, Legal Drug, and Code Geass. This is a series of one-shots, not in chronological order, set in the world of Despina. The characters in a piece will be included at the top along with the pairings, so if you want to target just your favorites and treat everyone else as OCs you don’t care about, that should be relatively do-able.
> 
> This is just for fun. No profit, no ownership, just some amusing ideas and a fangirl’s desire to see them written out. Enjoy~
> 
> Despina’s Fuuma is based on what we lovingly call Dork!Fuuma.

It was the stuff of the island’s touristy postcards. White sand beaches, softly swaying palm trees, gulls softly calling overhead... The brilliant red sky was cloudless, save for a few wisps, and when it met the ocean below on the horizon, it practically glowed purple.

For Kamui, all it really meant was that he could spend more time on the deck of the _Magami_ , as opposed to the living quarters. Nothing short of a hurricane and his job could convince him to leave his beloved fifty-foot floating house he “worked” so hard to own.

It literally paid to be observant. Especially when you lived on an island with a largely secret underground mafia that needed certain _things_ conveniently disposed of. Kamui was just lucky the young man he met with matching purple eyes found it easier to buy his silence instead of create it. Really, it worked out for everyone. Kamui kept to the ocean as long and often as he could. 

Since it _was_ a beautiful day, the beach was predictably populated. Jet skis whizzed by, there were a few recreational boats further out than his, and the white noise of human chatter mingled with the rolling waves. Not Kamui’s ideal circumstances, but he never the less was out, on a plastic lounging chair with a book and cold drink he was sipping through a straw. The beauty was that no one cared. No one _bothered._ The _Magami_ was his sanctuary of solitude, comfortable without being flashy, and he had the art of avoiding people down to a science.

From his laid back position, the violet eyed boy had the freedom of watching the world go by as he pleased and there was nothing better.

At least, that’s what he’d always thought.

“Hey!” Came a strong, deep voice from the general vicinity of _the ocean,_ “You awake up there?”

That... had sounded too close, too _directed_ for Kamui to pass it off as some swimmer talking to his group of friends. Fortunately he was up high enough that the intruder hadn’t seen the way he _jumped._

Kamui very reluctantly peered over the edge to locate the source of the voice.

“...Yes?”

As epically amazing, so all the magazines said, as Fuuma was at the sport of beach volleyball, he was spectacularly abysmal at surfing. He had been at it for several hours already and hadn’t managed to stand on the board for more than 15 seconds before crashing back into the water. He’d been causing some of the most obnoxious splashing ever seen, drawing attention from all around, and it didn’t hurt that he was _famous._

The way he was now, ass planted firmly on the board with his legs curled around the edges, clinging desperately for stability, he was fine. If even one of those feet were drawn up on top of the board, though... he’d probably barrel roll right under the boat.

So what was he doing out here, in the extra deep water near all the bigger yachts?

“You’ve been out here longer than I have, and I haven’t seen you do anything but lay there.” His smile was warm and inviting, all honesty and good humor, “I was starting to worry a little.”

The red on Kamui’s face could not possibly have been interpreted as a trick of the sunlight. There was double mortification to be had here. Not only had he caught the attention of a handsome looking guy that didn’t _understand_ , but that handsome looking guy was ….

Fuuma something, right? Kamui knew he was a renowned athlete, and may have been guilty of watching more than a few games from the water despite not giving a damn about volleyball, or _any_ sports really.

How could he have possibly missed someone like that watching _him_?

“....M’fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Fuuma’s smile widened, “That’s good,” and then he shrugged one shoulder and it turned sheepish, “At first I thought you were partying out here, but then I didn’t see anyone else come out on deck. So then I thought you were sun tanning, but after all this time you’d be burnt and instead you’re prettily pale, so that couldn’t be it. And then I thought you might be fishing, but now that I’m close, I don’t see any fishing gear at all. So I thought you might’ve fallen asleep up there, but you didn’t. You’re not doing anything that people out here would normally be doing.”

He sat up straighter on his board and squared his shoulders in one fluid, probably entirely unconscious movement, his confidence taking on a bold edge when he continued, “All that’s left, is that you’re just a very different person from everybody else out here, and I think I’d like to get to know you.”

...That entire speech in less than three minutes was about as much socialization as Kamui usually had in a normal _week._ He was left blinking at muscled athlete, trying to process so much information given to him by a stranger. That _wasn’t_ about boats.

“Um,” the shorter male scratched his cheek. Where did he even _begin_ with that?... “There’s not much to tell. I just... This is where I live.” 

Fuuma’s smile slipped into confusion for a moment, and then he was laughing, “You live on a _boat?_ That’s... kind of cool, actually. Now that you say it, I’m surprised more people in Despina don’t.” He nodded at the ladder on the back of the _Magami_ and asked, “So can I join you?”

“....You want to live with me?....”

Fuuma raised an inquisitive eyebrow and smirked, “That’s awfully forward of you.” but then he shook his head and smiled again, “I just meant, can I come up on deck?”

“Oh...” Because Kamui hadn’t blushed enough today. Feeling anxious, he ran his fingers through his hair, as if that would quell the embarrassment, and eyed the ladder that allowed entry into his solitude. The only other person that had been on the _Magami_ besides him was the man who sold it to him. The idea of having company over was something Kamui hadn’t considered. Ever. He came to the water to _escape_ people.

...But then again. He wasn’t exactly running from Fuuma right now, as much as he was wondering if he should be.

“I guess so.”

Fuuma didn’t bother to wonder about the hesitation; he figured it was because he’d shown up unannounced. Paddling over with all the anxiety of a person who could not be certain their board would stay under them, the professional athlete made it to the ladder and climbed on up.

“Man, you know...” He started as he leaned his board against the side of the deck, “Surfing is supposed to be fun, but it is _a lot_ of work.”

This was so... strange. Kamui didn’t know how to behave. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his short-sleeved hoodie, concealing their fidgeting, and he couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact for more than five seconds at a time. Fuuma was a good-looking guy. A _famous_ good-looking guy, and maybe if he had more... _feeling_ for humanity, he would have viewed this as a life-changing opportunity.

For the moment, all he could do was fumble with small talk. 

“Y-yeah... I’ve never done it before.”

“Really? I thought everyone in Despina had tried at least once.” Fuuma slid down into one of the available seats lining the edge of the deck and rested his arms against the railing behind him, “You should go for it. I’m sure you’d be better than me.” His expression took on a dissatisfied edge as he looked out over the water... and everyone who was successfully surfing already, “I think _everyone_ isbetter than me.”

Kamui truly envied how at ease Fuuma was, like it was common practice for him to hop on a stranger’s boat and shoot the breeze. And for all he knew, it _was._

“Not really my thing.”

Fuuma turned back to him with surprise, “How do you know if you’ve never done it before?”

“I’m not an athletic person.”

A nod, and then, “So what do you do for fun?”

Kamui turned toward the water, looking out at the half of the ocean that wasn’t littered with people. It made him relax marginally. “I come here.” 

Fuuma was silent for a while, studying the distant view and how Kamui looked against it with his short, fine hair floating in the wind and his thin frame wrapped in the warmth of the hoodie, all quiet and calm and beautiful.

But he was an athlete; his entire life was in flux at all times. He was always training harder, working faster, doing everything in his ability to do _more._ Relaxation for Fuuma was trying out a sport he didn’t participate in for money. He didn’t slow down much, and when he did it never lasted long. The idea of spending every day on a boat staring out at the sea and actually _enjoying_ it... was entirely foreign.

Finally he spoke, voice soft but loud enough to be heard over the ambient sounds of the waves and idle chatter all around them, “I don’t understand.” He took his eyes off of the water and focused them on Kamui, who was just so _different_ from everyone else he knew. It was like finding an unmarked door you had never noticed before in a hallway you had walked down every day of your life. He wanted to know what was there; wanted to know if maybe, this entire time, he’d been missing out on something amazing.

“But I want to.”

Kamui had expected Fuuma’s first three words; he’d heard them many times. It was part of what drove him out on his own in the first place. What made his breath catch, and finally turn back around to slowly face the other man, were his last four.

…. Violet eyes held golden ones for at least a solid minute before Kamui could utter another word.

“...Why?”

“You’re different,” Fuuma seemed to struggle with his words for a moment, before he continued, “You’re _new._ I’ve never met someone like you before. Maybe I just haven’t been looking in the right places, but... Now that I’ve found you,” His sheepish little smile was back for another round, “Why would I want to pass you up?”

Kamui tilted his head, feeling his cheeks prickle all over again. With Fuuma’s reputation, he no doubt met _thousands_ of people on a weekly basis. Thousands of different personalities with their own flaws and quirks. What appeal did a quiet, introverted man like himself possibly have? It, ...like the entirety of this encounter, was strange. For once, _he_ was the one who didn’t understand, and it wasn’t out of general exasperation.

“I guess I mean... why are you looking for something different? Are you bored?”

Fuuma laughed, “I don’t know what bored is like! Unless it’s anything like tired; I’m very familiar with tired.” Tilting his head to the side, the athlete looked Kamui over once more, “Why do you keep asking?”

“I-.. It’s just... weird. No one’s really ever been interested in talking to me because I’m “different”. That’s usually what keeps people away. And I don’t really see what’s so ...intriguing about a guy spending time on a boat on a nice day.”

Fuuma raised an eyebrow and his tone spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “But you don’t spend time on a boat when it’s a _nice day._ You’re on this boat when it rains, you’re on this boat when the wind’s too strong, you’re on this boat when it’s completely overcast. You _live_ on a _boat._ ”

Suddenly his brows furrowed in confusion, “Why are you fighting this so hard?” but then they relaxed as his expression turned worried, and he leaned forward in his seat to ask, “Is it that you want me to leave?...”

“No!” The answer came out before Kamui could help himself, but what was _more_ embarrassing was the way his hand shot out of his pocket as if he had a chance of physically stopping Fuuma from going _anywhere_.

Nevermind the man was still firmly planted on the deck chair.

Frustrated, Kamui instead employed the hand to tousle his own hair, pacing a few steps forward and back. Maybe he _was_ fighting this, but it was partly because he didn’t know what else to _say._ He’d seen Fuuma play sports, but knew nothing _about_ them to really commentate on his performance. ….Except that it did great things for his body. Other than that, what was a common thread between them?

When the answer hit Kamui, it seemed rather obvious.

“Would you... like a tour?”

Throughout Kamui’s... _performance,_ Fuuma’s expression had gone from shocked to charmed to concerned and back to shocked. But he still hadn’t moved from his seat, and so when the offer came, he answered it with a pleased smile, “Sure. Whatever you’d like to show me.” and then a small confession, “You’re cute when you’re frustrated, you know.”

….

Kamui was surprised he wasn’t _dizzy_ from the sheer amount of blood that had gone to his face in such a short amount of time. Not knowing the proper way to respond, he just started walking towards the wooden door that lead to his living space, and hoped his normal color returned soon.

“Follow me.”

But it wouldn’t. Showing someone he just met a glimpse of his private life was actually a bit _intimate_ for Kamui, and the way Fuuma seemed so enamored with what he saw, what he learned, what he _felt_ in each room...

It wasn’t without benefit. For as much as Kamui opened up, Fuuma responded in kind, and in spite of the _Magami_ only having six modest rooms, the tour ended up taking well over an hour. Because Fuuma was talking to him and Kamui had began feeling comfortable enough to talk _back_.

“Want something to drink?” Kamui asked when they were making their way back past the small kitchen, en route to the deck. He probably should have offered that in the _beginning_ of the tour, as opposed to the end, but never had the shorter boy claimed that he was a good host. Or a host ever.   

Fuuma shook his head and answered with a disappointed tone, “I probably shouldn’t. I’m unstable on that board as it is, and Goku’s gotta be wondering if I’m _ever_ planning to come back by now.”

The disappointment in Fuuma’s voice was reflected subtly in Kamui’s expression.

“You’re leaving then?”

“I should, soon,” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out at the ocean through one of the small windows on the outside wall of the boat, “It’s almost dark by now and I have to swim to shore. ‘Sides,” He continued with a cheeky smile, “if I stick around here too long, the media’ll wheedle out of Goku where I’ve gone and the paparazzi, at least the portion that cares about sports, will never leave you alone.”

Kamui could deal with the getting Fuuma to shore part, no problem. He could _not_ deal with the thought of paparazzi, however, and walked up to the golden eyed man to push his hands gently against an impeccably toned chest.

“You need to go.”

Fuuma laughed, even as he obligingly took a step backward toward the door behind him, “Even if I don’t really want to?”

Kamui pouted. Okay, he liked Fuuma but he wasn’t about to ruin his little sanctuary away from the world for him. It was _important._

“Then next time make sure you can’t be traced back here.”

Fuuma wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself, so, being completely _honest_ with himself, he liked the idea of having a little getaway where the world (probably) couldn’t find him. Especially if it was a place with someone as adorably interesting as Kamui. So he brought one hand up and gave a mock salute, “Yes, sir. I’ll wear a hat and some of those glasses with the fake nose and mustache. No one will be able to tell it’s me.” before he winked and turned to head outside.

“Yes, including me,” Kamui was trailing right behind, to make _sure_ he got off the _Magami_ as stealthily as possible, “I may just push you back into the water for that.”

Fuuma laughed again as he retrieved his board, “Alright, so I won’t wear the hat.” He made it to the first step on the ladder before he paused and looked back up at his host, “...Just to be sure, that _was_ an open invite to come back, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yes...” This time, when Kamui’s face glowed, he didn’t mind it so much, but his voice did get softer, “I would like that.”

“I would, too,” Fuuma’s smile widened, and then he was lowering himself back into the water. After his third try, he managed to get on top of his board and slowly sat up so he could wave to Kamui, “Hey, think I’ll be able to surf to shore?”

Finally breaking into a full smile, Kamui regrettably shook his head. “Not a chance.”

The way Kamui was now, with his brilliant smile and adorable blush against the backdrop of a sky quickly fading into darkness and a dim moon, made it so Fuuma couldn’t help but say what he was thinking, “You look beautiful like that.”

It was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to Kamui, but...

But Fuuma was stalling. And Kamui was in no position to be dealing with flirting so soon. His head was still spinning as it was. Heaving a little sigh, Kamui waved down at the surfer-in-much-needed-training.

“Until next time, Fuuma.”


End file.
